


Tongue-Tied

by Too_Many_Seeds



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Fluff, John Seed being dramatic, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 13:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: John Seed has something very important to tell the Deputy, and he has the perfect plan on how to go about it.





	Tongue-Tied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outranks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/gifts).



> A commission for a very supportive friend <3

With John Seed, everything was an event. 

The day had been well spent - despite the unfortunate side effect of carting around the stench of that damn fertiliser plant. She’d just dragged herself back into Dutch’s house in Falls End - collapsing onto the couch and wincing at the thought of trying to wrestle with his old and creaky water pipes for a shower- and had barely leaned her head against the couch pillow before she heard the telltale crackling of her radio.

“ _ Deputy _ .” 

Rook shut her eyes, and couldn’t help the heavy sigh. She waited a good few minutes before she reached for her radio on the side table and brought it to her head.

“Hello, John,” she replied, trying to disguise the weariness in her voice. Knowing him, if he heard that she was dead on her feet, he’d be telling her he’d cart her over his shoulder back to the ranch and insist that she sleep to her heart’s content. 

“ _ How kind of you to answer,”  _ he said, just the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Then his voice lowered, and he cleared his throat too deliberately to be natural. “ _ Deputy, I believe the purple shirt is flying.” _

Rook took a moment to press her knuckles to the bridge of her nose. Oh, John. Johnny Seed had apparently watched too many spy movies, for the ridiculous secret catchphrase he’d come up with. 

“So you want to have dinner, John?” She asked, not particularly in the mood to play secret agents. 

There was a moment of silence, and she wondered whether he was just a little bit miffed that she had ‘broken character.’ 

He spoke up, voice soft.

“Yes, I would like that,” he said and she couldn’t help but crack a grin. 

That was just how it was with John; the antics of the Baptist of the Holland Valley all too often left her feeling the urge to sigh and laugh all at once. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to fall under his spell when he first drew her in; when she slipped into his ranch and they began the first of countless trysts. 

The place hadn’t changed much  since she’d first snuck in through the roof. Thankfully, she didn’t have to take such covert measures anymore. 

She cackled under her breath as she pulled up behind John’s obnoxiously bright jaguar and gave a dazzling wave to the guards by the ranch’s garage door, who were used to her by this stage. Rook, mud-splattered and reeking of fertilizer, grinned at them and gave a mental fist pump when one of them, Levi - whose biceps were difficult to  _ not  _ stare at - sighed and gestured for her to go on in. 

“Evening,” he said, and Rook noticed it was much more amicable than last time. Ah,  _ progress. _

She stepped through the entryway, and stopped short. 

The table and surrounding furniture were adorned in little teacup candles; glowing with their teardrop flames that surely had to be a fire hazard. Excessive bunches of roses covered the room; thick flowers spilling out over their vases’ brim in some of the deepest shades of red she’d ever seen. The lights were dimmed and the table decorated with what appeared to be silver tableware, glittering in the candelight. 

Rook stepped forward, and winced as the mud on her boots tracked onto the wooden floor. She quickly took her shoes off, awkwardly shuffling them by the front door and rolling off her socks so she was barefoot - still uncomfortable but at least not dirtying the floorboards. 

The living room was warm, and the steady tick of the clock made her cross her arms over her chest and pray that the scented teacup candles disguised the suddenly very poignant remnants of the fertilizer plant on her. 

“John?” She called out, eyeing the entire scene warily. 

She barely had to wait a second before he came eagerly down the stairs, hand trailing on the bannister. 

“Deputy! Lovely to see you”- He paused as he rounded the corner and took in the sight of her. He was wearing a white silk dress shirt and perfectly ironed trousers; she was certainly underdressed in her jeans and sweater, mud aside. Fortunately, John huffed out a little laugh. “Is this a new fashion trend, dearest?” He stepped towards her, and to his credit, only wrinkled his nose  _ slightly  _ at the smell as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her own in a soft, chaste greeting. 

She wondered if her blush was for the intimacy or the embarrassment. 

“I...got up to some stuff today,” she admitted, grimacing. “Didn’t have time for a shower.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement and stepped back, gesturing to the stairs. 

“Yes, I heard about your...adventures today,” John replied, raising his eyebrows at her, somewhere smug and disapproving all at once. “Fortunately for you, I prepared. The bath’s drawn - you’ll find all you need upstairs. Don’t be too long, dear.”

She blinked a few times before stepping up the first few stairs; feet bare against the wooden floors. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, hopefully coy. 

“You’re not going to join me?” Rook asked, soft but betrayed by the quirk of her mouth. 

There was something tense in his shoulders despite the laugh he huffed out at her words. His fingers were dragging over his knuckles and she wondered for a moment whether he was nervous. 

“Not this time,” John replied, downcast and almost pensive for a moment before he glanced up and met her eyes with his signature smile. “After all, no sense in having dessert before dinner.” 

His laugh followed her as she stomped up the stairs, cheeks blushing furiously as she made her way into John’s room. 

And of  _ course _ he’d laid an outfit out for her. Taking a quick glance into the bathroom, she shook her head when she saw  _ more  _ of the teacup candles and rose petals scattered in the water. 

Well, after her day, she supposed she was allowed to treat herself to some luxury. 

At the very least, he’d given her some comfortable flat shoes to slip on. She pattered down to the dining room again - fertiliser free and warm from the soak - and clad in the soft but satin blue dress he’d left for her. 

She spotted him standing by the fire and despite having cleaned up, she still felt a pang of anxiety when she saw him fiddling with his sleeve cuff - she felt somehow inadequate,  _ inappropriate  _ beside him- but he turned to face her, and the tension seeped from his shoulders in an instant as he watched her descend the stairs. Rook was not an oblivious woman, and her anxiety faded as she saw the softening of John’s gaze; the way his eyes took in all of her and the subconscious smile pulled at his lips. 

“Comfortable?” John asked, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs and taking one of her hands in his own.

She took a breath, returning his smile; the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Warm,” she corrected, and meant in more ways than one. His hand came to the side of her cheek; following the line of her jaw up to brush against her hair, tucked by her ear; a pensive expression momentarily brushing over his gaze.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly, and then cleared his throat; stepping back and leading her to the nearby table. In her absence, it had been laden with their respective plates, now consisting of a hearty meal to match the chill in the air. The smell sent a rumble through her stomach, and she sat perhaps a little too eagerly in the chair John pulled out for her. 

He sat opposite - determined to eat with her by the candlelight, as he later confessed he loved how it made her  _ glow -  _ and after she gave him his moment of grace, they began to eat. The clinking of silver might have been awkward in any other situation, but with John and with the merry crackles of the fireplace, there was something amicable in silence.

It was only when John set down his fork and cleared his throat that she blinked out of the daze she’d been in. She glanced up to see him smiling at her, but the tension was back and his eyes were apprehensive. 

“Well,” he began, folding his napkin and placing it back on the table. “I suppose you must be wondering why I’ve brought you here tonight.” 

Rook paused mid-chew. 

_ Not really _ , she thought but his expectant expression made her shrug. 

“I guess?” She replied, more a question than anything else. 

He took a deeper breath and then huffed it back out like a nervous chuckle. He stood, sliding his chair back and trailing a hand along the tabletop as he moved to the head. Rook raised her eyebrows, but set her fork down, as it appeared like John was very much preparing to make one of his ‘speeches’. 

He cleared his throat once more, and smiled down at her.

“We’ve been... _ together  _ for some time now, dear,” John began, “and I believe that there are some particular words that need to be said at this stage.” 

He turned to the side, standing by the fireplace and for a second she was able to see his sheer nervousness. And that gave her a horrible premonition.

_ No...No, no, no, John Seed, please don’t propose,  _ she thought with widened eyes.  _ It’s only been three months, please, please; this is way too soon, god I am not ready for marriage yet.  _

He whirled back around and clasped his hands together in front of him and she recognised the shaking in his wrists for the anxiety that it was. 

“I have always struggled with trust, my dear,” he confessed. “The feeling - not the game. Though, to be quite honest, I wasn’t particularly skilled at the game either. Have you heard of it? I played it a lot with my old school-friends and we’d be tossing ourselves backwards and trusting each other to catch us because those are the rules and it’s supposed to promote trust and...” He broke off and grimaced. “Yes, I wasn’t that trustworthy, myself; I’d let my partners fall down and found it rather amusing. As schoolboys are wont to do, you understand.” 

Rook was squinting at this stage, trying to follow along with his line of conversation. She was certainly no stranger to babbling - lord knew she did enough of it herself - but this was particularly unusual for the former lawyer. 

“But I digress, dear.” John said, shaking his head slightly. “I was meaning to say that trust is a difficult concept for me, and always has been.” He tried to smile, but the expression seemed strained as he continued. “I have always heard that relationships require gaining trust. Unfortunately, in my previous relationships, I gained nothing but emptiness. I could not satisfy a desperate void through various flings without trust. I didn’t understand what it was to trust another so... intimately.” 

He glanced at her, and her breath caught in her throat. The panicked pounding of her heart began to slow, and a wave of relief washed over her as she realised this was not a proposal but a confession. 

_ Oh,  _ she thought, and subconsciously flicked her tongue out to wet and part her lips as she watched him _.  _ How she almost could have laughed at the irony; the man who heard all confessions of the Project was now nervously fumbling his way through his own to her. 

She wouldn’t deny that it was touching. And thankfully, it was relieving. The turmoil he was wearing like a shroud was all too familiar, and something she’d already suffered through herself; the knowledge that her caring for this man went beyond a simple tumble in his silken sheets. Unlike him, however, she had held her tongue - fearful of rejection or even derision should she spill her heart. 

Perhaps, if she were more impulsive, she would speak up now; interrupt him and put an end to his fumbling. But this was John Seed and when he put on a speech, she  _ wanted  _ to sit back and let him have his little stage. 

“I have always struggled with emotions,” he continued, and she relaxed in her chair, leaning back and feeling a smile tug at her lips as she saw him practically wringing his hands. “Wrath, in particular, has always been rather easy to pull from me. In fact, when I was in college, there was a DVD that I had finished watching and, upon realising that my two favourite characters did not, as it turned out, get married at the end, I took out the DVD and tossed it out the window.” He paused, and then sighed. “And then I went outside to find where it had landed and proceeded to jump on it to  _ really  _ ensure it was destroyed.” 

Rook was frowning at his tangent, and opened her mouth - perhaps wondering whether she should interrupt - but he cut himself off, clapping his hands and clearing his throat loudly. 

“However, as I was  _ saying _ ,” John continued, and diverted his gaze to the ground; nervousness fading to something solemn, “Joseph has been trying to help me; to encourage me to look beyond the wrath and emptiness it brings. Because that  _ is  _ what it does; it makes you burn and take, and take, and  _ take _ until you’ve burned everything... and you’re left with  _ nothing _ .” He returned his eyes to her, intent but pensive. “And Joseph told me the way to fight that anger was to  _ temper  _ it...with its cardinal opposite. And I can. I  _ have _ . For you. I’ve been able to temper my wrath with…”

He broke off, and waited for a moment, staring at her expectantly. 

“You’re not saying anything,” he said, and the tension was back in his shoulders; the fear she had been familiar with herself. “Darling, tell me if you want me to stop - I will stop this now and we can finish our evening as usual and nothing will change and we can pretend as though this never happened and...” He trailed off, pursing his lips as he struggled for words.

She gave a small, reassuring smile.

“Go on, John,” Rook replied patiently, nodding as she spoke. 

He glanced up at her, and the flash of sheer hope in his eyes had her heart racing. 

“Love….You.  _ I _ do. You. Love,” John finished, stumbling in his eagerness. He winced and cleared his throat. “Forgive me, that was poorly done and”-

“Love you... I do too,” Rook interrupted, unable to help but grin at him. “It’s okay; you can relax now, John.” 

He sighed, closing his eyes to savour his moment; his relief of hearing her return his words. He leaned against the side of the table as a sort of exhaustion came over him in an after-effect of his nerves, and he raised a hand to rub at his forehead. 

“I had a plan,” he scowled, gesturing to the roses and teacup candle display on the table. “It was going to be perfect; it was going to be  _ romantic.” _

She stood up, running a hand up his arm to drag him towards her.

“It  _ was  _ perfect, and it  _ was  _ romantic,” Rook insisted, smiling at his worry and pulling him down to rest his forehead against hers by the candlelight. “Even if you did sound like Yoda.” 

He gave her a withering glare, though the effect was lessened as he wrapped a hand around her waist and drew her close; the touch familiar and as warm as everything else he brought. 

“I hate you,” he muttered, sighing into the embrace. 

“No, you don’t,” Rook sang in reply, grinning madly up at him. “You  _ love _ me.”

His eyes softened and he brushed the side of her cheek with his hand, impossibly gentle and perfect at once. 

“Yes,” John replied, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead. “Yes, I believe I do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
